Hands in the Sky
by foxxandbeanz
Summary: Felicity gives Al Sah-Him an out. My dream of a confrontation that turns the tide. 3x22 Spec fic. Oneshot. Canonical. Olicity.


She'd screamed at him. Demanded. Pleaded. From the moment he was close enough to hear her. She hadn't cared who else heard or what she had to say. She'd just kept talking as they were led inside Nanda Parbat once again. This time in chains. She kept talking long after he stopped looking directly at her while he walked them down the stony halls. She thought she'd lose her voice yelling at him as he locked them all, all his friends, in a cold cell and turned his back.

And she finally fell silent. Exhausted and nearly broken. Her throat burned, breathing was like swallowing cheap vodka. Her eyes were practically throbbing. And the tear tracks down her cheeks hadn't had a chance to dry because the tears never stopped falling until now. If she could have thrown up her hands in defeat in that exact moment, she would have.

But she couldn't. Her medieval handcuffs were oh-so-conveniently secured to the floor by even more chains. And she couldn't give up. She wouldn't. He would have to drive his ridiculous League sword through her heart first.

So that was how she came to call calmly and clearly, over the still roaring John and Laurel, to his retreating form, "Al Sah-Him."

John and Laurel went mute at the sound. If she had glanced at them, she'd have seen Diggle's familiar questioning brow and Laurel's prettily agape shock. But her eyes were more focused on Oliver than ever, hoping beyond everything that she would see something in his movements, in his breathing, his blinking that would tell her she wasn't wrong.

Nothing changed in his posture but he turned back toward them. The twin guards flanking him following suit. And he dared to meet her determined stare with those dead, Oliver-less eyes one more time.

He didn't have to speak, not yet. This was enough of an opening. One more chance that she knew how to make count.

"You can end this all right now. No more fighting. No more rescue attempts. No more bloodshed because you won't even have to kill us. We'll throw in the towel, walk away. And you only have to do one tiny thing." She was surprised by the evenness of her voice as she inched closer to the bars that separated them.

He took two oversized steps back into the cavern, tantamount to an invitation to continue.

And she did. "It's simple. Piece of cake, if you are who you say you are. You just have to tell me one thing. Four words and this Team Arrow shaped thorn in your side will disappear. For good."

She baited the hook.

If there was any trace of Oliver left, he would jump at the chance to get them all out of harm's way. If he was all assassin, he'd be glad to be done with the mismatched troop of wannabe heroes plaguing his ascension.

It was just the bait.

He gave a hint of a nod and took another step toward her. His expression never changed. There wasn't a trace of interest in his voice. It was flat and black as the hood on his shoulders. "What is it you need to hear? I've already told you, Oliver Queen is dead."

John was at her back, trying to ask her what she was doing, trying to save her from herself again, but Tatsu hushed him. Laurel slid helplessly to the floor. And Ray stood utterly out of place, completely ignored, in the corner. But she couldn't stop the expansion in her chest that pushed her heart against her ribs and made her gamble on Oliver just one more time.

She hadn't counted on the words lodging in her throat. Forcing tears to well again. But it didn't matter. She grabbed the bars in front of her, steadying herself. And swallowed hard. The words coming out smooth.

"Say that you don't love me."

He didn't twitch. So she pushed harder, partly to really sell it and partly because if he was going to say it, she wasn't quite ready to hear it.

"Say it and I'll believe you. I'll believe that Oliver Queen is dead. That he's never coming back. Say it and they'll stop fighting you. They'll stop trying to save Oliver. Because I'll tell them to. Say it and we'll go away. You'll never see us, me, again. You can marry the Demon's daughter and become Ra's. And I'll go live my life surrounded by people I care about and pretend that I'm happy. But I won't be. I could never really be happy without Oliver. And I'll never love anyone else because you only get to love someone once the way that I love you."

She came to an almost gasping stop. What had started out calm, determined had peaked to desperate somewhere in the middle while tears streamed down her cheeks and she ended on a quiet revelation she knew was true but hadn't been ready for.

She took one more deep breath. And challenged him. "End this. Say you don't love me."

She could practically see her heart floating in the space between them, waiting for him to either save it or viciously swat it aside. Any awareness she had of the space around her vanished as her periphery went black and the only thing she heard was her own breathing. Her eyes fixed on the man in front of here. Seconds stretching into hours as she waited for his response.

She almost missed it.

The thumb of his right hand rubbing across his knocking fingers.

She registered Digg's hand clamping onto her shoulder.

But she was paralyzed even as he transformed in slow motion in front of her.

His eyes slipped shut. His tongue licked his bottom lip. And when his eyes came up again his brow had softened. His blue eyes screaming with life. Then he let out a low sigh. Her sigh. The one that said he was awed and frustrated and completely undone by her. Because she had thrown his world ass over teakettle again.

"Felicity."

He was almost within her reach. Her fingers were uncurling from the bars as the guards behind him moved in closer, sensing the shift.

"I told you not to ask me that."

It was quicker than she could make sense of. Three or four swift, brutal moves, one that brought an enemy head crashing against the bars making her jump back, and both assassins were unconscious on the floor.

Then Oliver was swinging open the door. His hands bracketing her face before he made a move for the restraints or even looked at the others.

He paused long enough for her to breath, "Oliver."

"This was not part of my plan."


End file.
